Stepbrother's love: Stepdad whore

It was a Sunday evening the sound of heels clicking against marble echoed through the penthouse like the ticking of a countdown clock. My mother barely spared me a glance as she adjusted the diamond bracelet on her wrist, her silk dress clinging to her curves, looking every bit the wealthy socialite she was. “Be good, Riley,” she said, her voice dripping with indifference. “And don’t cause trouble for Ethan.” Trouble. That was all she ever thought of me as. Not her daughter. Not someone she should love or protect. Just a burden, an inconvenience standing between her and her jet-setting life. “I won’t promise,” I muttered under my breath, arms crossed as I leaned against the doorway. She sighed, exasperated, before turning to Ethan, her husband of three years. “Make sure she follows the rules,” she instructed. “No parties. No skipping school. No running off with boys.” A smirk tugged at my lips as I met Ethan Carter’s unreadable gaze. He stood tall, a commanding presence in a tai

The ride home from the police station was suffocating. Ethan hadn’t said a word since bailing me out, but the tension in the air was thick enough to choke on. His hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, his jaw set in a hard line. I crossed my arms, shifting uncomfortably in my seat, still feeling the adrenaline from earlier. The fight, the club, Leslie, the cops—everything had spiraled out of control. And now, I was facing the consequences. When we pulled into the driveway, he finally spoke. “Inside. Now.” His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that made my stomach tighten. I didn’t argue. Not yet. The house was eerily silent as I stepped inside. The moment the door shut behind us, Ethan’s voice sliced through the quiet. “The police had a lot to say about you tonight,” he began, slipping off his coat and tossing it onto the couch. “Drinking. Fighting. Getting arrested. And, apparently…” He turned to face me, his piercing eyes locking onto mine. “Your

Ethan sat at the long conference table, his fingers drumming impatiently against the surface as the shareholders continued their endless bickering. His mind wasn’t fully present. The voices around him seemed to fade into a dull hum. He was far more preoccupied with Riley. His thoughts wandered back to the way she had looked at him earlier, her uncertainty clouding her usual confidence making her irresistable. It unsettled him, but he couldn’t afford to show it. Not here, not now. "Mr. Kensington, we need your input on the pricing strategy for the upcoming quarter," one of the shareholders insisted, snapping Ethan out of his thoughts. He glanced up, offering a tight-lipped smile. "We’ll be adjusting our margins to stay competitive, but don’t mistake that for a sign of weakness," Ethan said, his voice steady but firm. "We’re leading this market. I want that reflected in the numbers, not just the rhetoric. We’re not cutting corners. We’re setting new standards." The room fell sil

The morning sunlight creeps into my room, painting golden streaks on the walls, but it does nothing to warm the cold, empty space inside me. My body still hums from last night, my skin still tingles where Nathan touched me, and my lips still burn from where his mouth had been.We were so close to getting caught.The thought sent a shiver down my spine, but it wasn’t fear—it was excitement. I should be terrified. I should be ashamed. But all I could think about was how his breath had felt hot against my skin, how his grip sent a thrill through my body, and how dangerously close we were to being caughtIt wasn’t like the first time we had sex—wild, reckless, completely out of control.Last night was different.It was desperate. Frustrated.I press my thighs together, trying to calm the heat stirring between them.I had wanted him to take me again. To claim me the way only he could. But instead, he had given me something even crueler.His hands. His mouth. His patience.He made me beg.A

(First-person POV — Nathan’s perspective)---The Business Meeting.By the time Ethan and I arrived at the conference hall, I had barely reined in my rage.The confrontation from the night before still clawed at my mind, but I knew better than to let it show. Business was war in its own way, and showing weakness—whether emotional or physical—was unacceptable.Ethan, as always, was in control. He strode into the boardroom with an air of authority, his tailored suit perfectly pressed, his expression unreadable. I followed closely, adjusting my cufflinks and keeping my own mask firmly in place.The boardroom was a statement of power—mahogany walls, a massive glass table, and sleek leather chairs. The shareholders were already seated, their sharp gazes shifting toward us as we entered. Blackwood Enterprises didn’t just attract wealthy investors; it attracted sharks.Ethan took his seat at the head of the table, effortlessly commanding attention. I sat beside him, maintaining my own presen